“Stay calm,” she muttered, as they headed for the gates. The sergeants had told her that you could get away with a great deal simply by acting as if you had a perfect right to do whatever you were doing. Someone who looked shifty, on the other hand, would attract immediate attention. “If anyone asks, we have been sent with an urgent message to the castle.”
The sergeants had also hammered observation techniques into her head, reminding her that combat sorcerers and sorceresses were often called upon to spy. She counted upwards of forty guardsmen near the Assembly, a sizeable percentage of the force legally available to any of the barons. But if someone had determined on a coup, they wouldn’t let little details like a ban on more than two hundred armsmen get in their way. None of the guardsmen wore anything that identified them, suggesting…what? Was their master still unsure of success?
She pushed that out of her mind as they reached the gates, silently cursing Whitehall under her breath. The tutors allowed the students to use glamors freely because it taught them how to sense their presence and peer under the illusion. If one of the guardsmen happened to be a magician, he might well realize that two people were trying to escape. Emily nodded to one of the guards as they walked through the gates and out into the streets. No one moved to stop them.
“Thank the goddess,” Alassa breathed. “Back to the castle?”
Emily glanced up the long road towards the castle gates and shook her head. There were squadrons of horsemen patrolling the streets, with heralds bellowing commands for everyone to remain indoors and lock their doors. They didn’t seem interested in giving explanations, Emily realized, although that wasn’t too surprising. King Randor was a reasonably popular king–he was certainly more popular than any of the nobles, particularly the barons–and the populace might rise up in his support, if they knew what was happening.
“I think we’d be caught if we tried,” she said. And even if they did get into the castle, what could they do? Just sit there and wait for the enemy forces to catch up with them? It probably didn’t matter; by now, the castle had to be crawling with enemy troops. “Where else can we go?”
“The shrine,” Alassa said. “The priestesses would give us sanctuary, but…”
She broke off. “They wouldn’t help us fight back,” she added. “They’re not allowed to involve themselves in mundane matters.”
Emily wasn’t too surprised. From what Alassa had said, the sisters of the crone goddess lived on the very edge of acceptable society. It was easy to see their existence as a challenge to male authority, even if the very concept of male authority was thoroughly absurd. The temples could be closed down and the sisters scattered if they annoyed enough people in power, whatever defenses they might believe the goddess offered them. No, they’d be unwilling to assist openly. It was more likely that they would simply keep Emily and Alassa within their shrine, unable to leave.
“We can’t stay here,” Emily muttered. By now, the faceless enemy would probably have realized that they hadn’t caught Alassa. They’d start hunting for her as soon as they had secured the castle and the garrison. If they worked along the same lines as Dragon’s Den, they might well have secured the gatehouses leading out of the inner city too. “Come on.”
She felt an odd flash of déjà vu as they slipped down the stairs where she and Imaiqah had been attacked, barely a week ago. “Stop here,” she ordered, summoning charms Sergeant Miles had taught her. “We don’t want them tracking us.”
The simplest way to track someone, Sergeant Miles had said, was by using a trained dog. There were no shortage of huntsmen in the nobility, all of whom owned dogs; a simple spell broke the trail, making it impossible for the dogs to follow them any further. A second set of spells disrupted the link between Alassa and her father, at least to some extent. But then, Alassa was almost as unique as Emily. Given time, the Royal Bloodline could probably be used as a needle to point directly at her.
There were other ways. Sergeant Miles had tracked Emily and Jade through the forest near Whitehall so effectively that Emily had been convinced that he’d used magic. He hadn’t; afterwards, he’d taken them back along their route and pointed out all the subtle hints they’d left that had shown him their path. It would be harder to leave a trail in the city, but…if someone could track them, they’d better be prepared to fight. Who knew what would happen once they fell into enemy hands?
They’ll want Alassa alive, Emily told herself. But they won’t want me.
“I’m going to alter the illusion slightly,” she said, out loud. “We won’t look like guardsmen, but ordinary citizens. Just remember to walk with your head slightly bowed.”
“Understood,” Alassa said. Her voice was uneven, but she was holding herself under control. “Where are we going?”
“We need help,” Emily said. And Alassa needed a place to collapse for a few minutes. “There’s only one place we can go.”
“Imaiqah’s,” Alassa said.
Emily nodded, thinking hard. The problem was that their unknown enemy, if they knew anything about Alassa, would almost certainly draw the correct conclusion. Alassa didn’t have any friends in Alexis apart from Imaiqah…who else would she run to? And Emily shared the same friend. If she’d been in command of the hunt for the missing princess, she would have staked out Imaiqah’s apartment right from the start.
We could go to the warehouse, she thought, instead. I could break in easily and then…what?
Nothing came to mind. They needed help and Imaiqah’s family were the only ones who could provide it.
They will be targeted too, Emily thought, although she wasn’t sure if she really believed it or if she was trying to salve her conscience. The coup might well be aimed at reversing the changes Emily had brought to Zangaria before it was too late, in which case Imaiqah and everyone else associated with the new knowledge would be targeted for elimination. Maybe they had moved too far, too fast; maybe other guilds had feared their own destruction and decided to help the aristocracy strike back.
“Come on,” she said, shaking her head. There would be time to unravel the mystery of who was behind the coup once they were safe. “We need to move.”
They kept to the shadows as they walked away from the castle, heading down towards the docks. The streets were being patrolled by horsemen, who paused long enough to bellow instructions to the citizens, ordering the market sellers off the streets and back into their homes. Here, where people actually had to work daily for a living, there was grumbling and defiance, even outright resistance. The horsemen looked ready to draw their swords and lash into the crowds as Emily and Alassa slipped by them, hidden under the glamor. Passing through the market would also add some more confusion to their trail, Emily told herself. Thousands of people passed through it every day.
“They can’t keep everyone off the streets forever,” she muttered, as they slipped into a darkened alleyway. “The entire city would grind to a halt.”
The thought was chilling. Alexis depended on a constant supply of food from the farms surrounding the city. If that supply line were to be broken for more than a day or two, the citizens would start to starve and then die. The new authorities would have riots on their hands.
Or is that what they want? She asked herself. Do they want the entire city dead?
She was tempted just to run into Imaiqah’s shop, but held back, checking out the entire area first. There didn’t seem to be any guards, or magical surveillance, apart from a handful of wards that had Imaiqah’s signature. Bracing herself, Emily stepped into the store and saw Imaiqah sitting behind the counter, her eyes narrowing as she saw the glamor. Emily smiled, allowing the glamor to fade away into nothingness.
Imaiqah stared at them as she looked up. “Emily? Alassa?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
YOUR HIGHNESS,” IMAIQAH’S FATHER STAMMERED. “WHAT are…what’s going on?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Emily admitted. She ran through a brief outline of the attack on the Assembl
y, concluding with their escape from the attackers and flight through the streets. “Do you have a place where you can hide us?”
Paren hesitated, studying Alassa thoughtfully. “Hiding you might be difficult, Your Highness,” he said, finally. “You’re quite recognizable.”
Emily couldn’t disagree. She could pass for a local, at least once she’d changed into more basic clothes and undone her hair. Alassa, on the other hand, was the result of a breeding program that had produced a stunningly beautiful girl. She’d draw eyes wherever she went, no matter what she wore. Perhaps they could give her a headscarf and claim that she was married, using the scarf to conceal her blonde hair, but her face would still be recognizable. And a glamor might well be noticed once the enemy started searching in earnest.
Lin marched over to her husband, pulled him to one side and started whispering to him angrily. Emily wondered what she was saying–perhaps insisting that her husband helped or perhaps urging him to get rid of them as quickly as possible–before looking over at Imaiqah, who had brought in a small pile of clothes.
“They’re my size,” Imaiqah stated. “But you should be able to wear them.”
“I should have taken that class on clothing transfigurations,” Alassa said, ruefully. She still sounded shaken and, from the glances she was directing at Imaiqah’s parents, could hear too much of their conversation for her own peace of mind. “I could have altered them to fit.”
“Get in here,” Imaiqah ordered, pulling them into a small chamber. “Change into these clothes, then your old ones can be turned to dust. They can’t be found here.”
She hesitated as Emily started to strip off the dress the maids had given her…had it really only been a few short hours ago? It felt like years had passed since the coup had been launched. But then, Alassa and she had spent the night awake…she really needed to get some sleep. So did Alassa, or they’d be completely exhausted when the enemy finally caught up with them.
“Can you find Alassa a scarf?” Emily asked, as she finished pulling on the trousers and shirt. They felt uncomfortably tight, but it should help to convince any watchers that she was simply too poor to buy clothing in her own size. “Her hair is simply too recognizable.”
“Here,” Imaiqah said. She smiled brightly at Emily’s expression. “I thought of that.”
“Thank you,” Alassa said, seriously. She took the scarf and tried to put it on. “How do you do it?”
“Like this,” Imaiqah said, and demonstrated. “Remember, you’re a married women and you cannot take the scarf off in public.”
Alassa snorted as Emily inspected her. She didn’t look like a princess any longer, unless one paid too much attention to her face and realized that it was inhumanly perfect. Emily wondered if they could find something that could be used to mar Alassa’s skin, perhaps creating the impression of a wart or even a simple pimple. But it would have to be done carefully…perhaps they could create two glamors, one to suggest a nasty birthmark on Alassa’s face and the other to cover it up. Anyone who looked too closely would see the birthmark and hopefully not look any further.
Or we could just use dirt, she thought. It would be completely undetectable–and cheap!
Paren was waiting for them as they stepped back into the living room. “I’ve sent out messengers to the craftsmen to suggest that they go into hiding,” he said. His tone suggested that he’d had a contingency plan for that all along. “However…Your Highness, I would like to know why I should risk my family to help you.”
There was a long, uncomfortable pause.
“The only people who could make the coup work are the barons,” Alassa said, finally. If she found the question offensive, she kept it to herself. “I don’t understand how the duke could have risen against my father–if it is the duke–but both he and the barons have one thing in common. They both disapprove of the changes that have recently been introduced into the kingdom.”
Her eyes sharpened. “You are one of the most prominent merchants involved with spreading new knowledge,” she added. “Even if I’d never come here, you will be targeted. They will seek to make horrific examples out of everyone they can catch. If you help me restore my father to his throne, you will have his gratitude–and you will have safeguarded your own lives.”
Emily nodded when Imaiqah’s father looked at her. Alassa was correct, although it wouldn’t make the knowledge any easier to bear. Lady Barb had been right, Emily decided; she had been careless when she started offering Imaiqah the benefits of her knowledge. If they’d moved more carefully, perhaps the coup would never have happened…but then, once certain items became common knowledge, they would have spread like wildfire. The arrogance and corruption of the Accountants Guild would have seen to that.
“True, Your Highness,” Paren said, finally. “But how can we help restore your father to his throne?”
“I don’t know yet,” Alassa admitted. “There will be loyalists out there…”
“There’s a place where you can hide for a few days,” Paren said. “I’ll be sending most of my children to other hiding places. Imaiqah will take you there.”
“Thank you,” Alassa said. “And I will see you rewarded for this.”
Imaiqah led them both out of the room and into the store. “You’ll need some food,” she said, picking up a small knapsack. “The bread is freshly baked; father buys it from the baker just down the street. The apples are tasty; make sure you eat at least one a day. Everyone is eating apples right now. I’m not so fond of the cheese, but it will keep you healthy.”
Emily concealed her amusement. It had been her suggestion to set up a convenience store, one where people could buy whatever they might want without having to search through dozens of stores. Admittedly it didn’t work as well as it had on Earth, but it still brought in some additional money for Imaiqah’s family. She added a couple of bottles of water to the knapsack, slung it over her shoulder and waited.
“I’ve wrapped up the swords,” Imaiqah added. “If the guardsmen see you carrying them, they will certainly stop you and ask questions. Swords aren’t permitted to commoners.”
She gave Alassa a rather droll smile. “And what would have happened to the coup if they were?”
“Nothing,” Alassa said. She still sounded nervous, almost unsteady. “Everything happened too fast for anyone to do anything.”
Imaiqah frowned, then looked at Emily. “I could get you some potions,” she offered. “One of them ensures dreamless sleep.”
“No,” Alassa said, before Emily could say a word. “We can’t risk being caught while we’re drugged.”
Emily nodded. She’d used sleeping potions before when she’d had nightmares after Shadye’s defeat and they tended to work too well. Being woken up before the potion had completely worn off had produced hallucinations and waking nightmares, bringing back uncomfortable memories of the time Shadye had used her own blood to manipulate her. He’d moved her like a puppet and only lost control right at the end. And if Sergeant Harkin hadn’t sacrificed himself, she would still be his slave–or dead.
She tossed Alassa a puzzled look as Imaiqah opened the door. “When did you use them?”
Alassa made a face. “My roommates insisted after you hit me with those spells,” she said, one hand touching her jaw. Emily had turned it into stone when she’d been too angry to think clearly, coming within a hairsbreadth of killing her. “I was having too many bad nights.”
Outside, there was a new sense of tension on the streets. Most of the sellers seemed to have vanished, apart from a single hopeful-looking man pushing a wooden trolley that advertized sausages in a bun. Emily couldn’t help wondering how he got any business at all–his hygiene seemed almost non-existent–before seeing the marked prices on the side. Even a small bronze coin was fantastic wealth to some of the poorer people in the city. She looked away as the seller started to pick his nose, hearing the sounds of arguing in the distance. It sounded as though not everyone had decided to tamely accept
the coup plotters’ orders to stay off the streets.
“Keep your heads down,” Imaiqah muttered, as she guided them into a cramped alleyway. “We don’t want to be noticed.”
The city was normally clean–or maybe Emily had simply become used to the smell–but the alleyway stank unpleasantly. She saw a handful of people trying to sleep and looked away, granting them what privacy she could. It was a mystery what they ate until she saw the remains of fish bones by one of the sleeping vagrants and realized that they probably helped out at the docks in exchange for food. Fish was cheap here…there was no real danger of fishing the waters until the fish were driven into extinction. That might change in the future, she told herself, grimly. Who knew where modern technology would lead them?
I should start writing about the pitfalls, she told herself, and added it to her ever-growing list of things to do. What will happen when they start producing factories?
She hadn’t studied the industrial revolution as enthusiastically as she had studied ancient history–it was closer to her own time–but she had read about cities draped in smog and the health problems it had caused. And factory owners had been just as bad, in many ways, as the aristocrats they’d displaced from the pinnacle of power. Who knew what Imaiqah’s father would become when he no longer needed so many skilled craftsmen?
The stench grew stronger as they turned a corner and walked into a slaughterhouse. A giant animal–Emily realized, to her horror, that it was a whale–lay on the ground, while fishermen cut and hacked at its body, slowly removing all of the flesh. She had no idea what whale meat tasted like, but they would be able to melt down the fat for oil and–if she recalled one of Thande’s lectures correctly–probably use it for alchemy as well. Whales had been a protected species back home, but not here. But at least hunting them would be difficult.
Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series) Page 31